Empty Chairs at Empty Tables
by Ink Dropp
Summary: LBD-verse. Gigi and William Darcy have just lost their parents, and they cannot bear the sight of empty chairs at empty tables.


"They were here at breakfast." His shoulders are tense, and his voice reflects this. "They were here…they were here at breakfast." His voice is cracking, and he wipes a tear away from his eye.

"William, you can't just keep repeating that." She turns around to face him, straddling the chair and resting her chin on the back of it. She does not look sad, not like he does. She looks empty.

"Georgiana-"

"Don't call me that." She is still empty, lost. "Daddy and mama will come back and then they'll be the one calling me Georgiana and I'll still be cute little Gigi to you! They have to come back, William!" She is realizing, now, what he was forced to realize as soon as he was called earlier that day.

"They're not coming back!" He can't force his voice above its current volume, the knot in his throat restricting his ability to breathe. Another tear makes a careless trail along his face, and he doesn't bother to brush it away, because she's already seen it.

"They're coming back." She is stubborn, more stubborn than he has ever heard her.

"No, no they're not!" Tears are flowing freely down his cheeks now, and he kicks a chair that is sitting around the table. "They're never coming back, Gigi! Our mother and father are _DEAD_, Georgiana! Nothing you can say will change that!"

"They have to, William. They have to." Emptiness, blankness; that is all that is in her eyes.

He tips her chin up with his fingers. "They can't, Gigi."

"You're a lying bastard, William. A lying bastard who doesn't _want _mom or dad back. They never liked you, you know! They always preferred me! I can see why now." Her words are spat and vehemence and contempt well up on her lips. "A lying fucking bastard who wanted his parents to die. They probably got in that accident on purpose to get away from _you."_

He sighs and turns away, his back to Gigi and the kitchen table where they were preparing for their Saturday lunch. He sighs again, not sure what to say, or do. He recognizes now the stages of grief; she is caught in between denial and anger. And he…he has moved on already, in three minutes going from denial to acceptance.

He had to, for her.

The doorbell rang, and he took the moment to regroup himself, wiping the tears from his eyes as the door swung open.

"Hi, is the owner of the house present on the premises?" God, a salesperson. He turns briefly over his shoulder to call his parents, when he realized something.

"I am he." Everything his parents had owned was given to him, under the presumption that whatever was necessary for Gigi would be given freely.

"Aren't you a tad young to be owning a house?" Stupid git.

"Aren't I a tad young for my parents to have died today? Yes, yes I am." He slams the door in the salesperson's face and turns back to his kitchen, walking in to see his sister sobbing.

"I'm sorry." He's surprised that it was his voice, not hers, that spoke.

"We could have done something, William…" She whispers.

"Gigi…it was their time."

"You don't want them back, then?"

"Of course I want them back!" His voice cracks again, and though he has been able to hold back his tears in some fashion, the entire contents of his eyes are now emptying onto his face. "They were my parents, too, Gigi!" His hands ball up into fists. "They…they loved me…" He is stuck, again. Stuck in the way her eyes sparkled, the way his laugh bubbled in his chest, the way they smiled every morning of his entire life. "But all we have now, Gigi, are empty chairs at an empty table. All we have now is each other."

"You are wrong, William Darcy. You may only have me, but I will _always_ have them with me. Always. You don't want to remember them, do you?" She gets out of her chair, and takes a step towards them.

"Of course I want to remember them, but everything reminds me of them." He stares at his feet, refusing to meet her eyes. "Do you think people were lying when they said you look exactly like Mom?"

"Do you think that people were lying when they said you look exactly like Daddy?" She counters, taking another step closer. His eyes are still focused on his shoes.

Suddenly, her arms around him, and his around her. They can't let go, because if they let go, they will plummet back into their despair, they will go back to facing old demons when there are new things to face, new challenges and new worlds together.

"We'll get through this," she mumbles into his chest.

"I know."


End file.
